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‘Bobby’ — A work of flash fiction

I couldn’t sleep a few nights ago and decided to write this creepy little diddy. I hope that you all like it.

Reader beware if you have a mirrored closet door…

Or a brother named Bobby.

‘Bobby’

The house creaked and settled; each sonic intrusion breaking the silky silence of night. We used to live in the city. We used to have the buzz of traffic to lull us to sleep. We used to have strangers talking and passing each other in the night to remind us that we were not alone. That there was a pulse to the city and that if something were to happen, help would never be too far.

My parents just bought a home in the country. A variable farm estate to tell the truth, and it is all the things that our old house was not. I stare at the bottom of my brother’s bed and try to imagine the sounds, but I can’t seem to do it over the absoluteness of the silence. I wonder if Bobby can hear me breathing, because I can’t hear him. I think it is because he has the top bunk, but what if he had actually stopped breathing?

I think of the acres of green farmable land just beyond our bedroom and what would happen if I actually did find my brother dead and lifeless. I imagine throwing the window open and screaming into the night. The still air and statuesque trees swallowing my cries like a vacuum. A black hole manifesting, random and cold just beyond the barrier of our walls.

I don’t know how long I lie in bed before I could fall asleep. But when I do I feel like I’m sinking. Like the vacuum thing from outside crept between the crack in the window, slithered under my bed, and is now pulling me into my mattress.

Hours into the night something jars me from sleep.

A sound.

Something that I am not familiar with.

I open my eyes and wait for them to adjust to the inky blackness of our room. They do not adjust, at least not completely. I can see the outline of my dresser. Of Bobby’s. My mind fights to identify what exactly the sound is, but something else distracts me.

Blocks me.

Freezes me.

Makes my breath sit heavy in my chest. I can hear the pulse of my heart expanding and contracting in my ear drums.

There is a woman in front of our closet, at least that’s what my eyes are allowing me to experience. Something is not right about her. The closet sits about ten feet from the bed that Bobby and I share, but somehow the woman’s feet are planted on the carpet about a foot and a half from the open mirrored slider and her head and shoulders are obscured from my sight. I can tell that she is leaning over my brother in the top bunk. I wonder to myself how the woman is able to do such a thing from such a far distance because she doesn’t look tall.

“Shhhh huuuuh,” I hear Bobby sigh, “shhhh huuuuh.”

I look again the woman’s body and realize why it doesn’t look completely impossible; the woman’s mass seems believable, but her torso has stretched across the room allowing her to do whatever she is doing to Bobby. My pulse quickens to a point that I think that my eardrums will pop right out of my head. I look at where the skin of the woman’s stomach is illuminated by a thin sliver of light from the blinds. I can’t tell for sure, but I think that her skin is scaled like a snake or lizard. The light also highlights the tiny outlines of bubbles crawling down the center of her torso. They remind me of crawling spiders or one of those Discovery Channel specials that shows a snake swallowing its prey.

“Shhhh huuuuh. Shhhh huuuuh.”

And then the gravity sets in.

This thing is going to kill Bobby.

And then.

It might decide to kill me too.

“B–,” I begin. I feel the pressure in the room increase. My ears pop and for a second I think that my eardrums did pop out of my head, just like I thought they would.

The woman’s body stills completely. The room silent save for Bobby.

“Shhhh huuuuh. Shhhh huuuh. Shhhh hu—“

And then it was silent.

I close my eyes.

“B–“ I take a deep breath, “Bobby?”

I open my eyes and the woman is over me now. Her piebald skin glistens in the slivers of light; like the underbelly of a toad. I am drawn to her mouth that is opened wide. I see the glimmering hint of tiny teeth that look like sewing needles. Beyond them is darkness. The kind that can be felt in the heart and the bones and the soul just as much as it can be seen with the eyes.

I am completely paralyzed now.

At the mercy of this thing that had done something terrible to my brother.

To Bobby.

Unable to move my body, I force myself to look the thing in the eyes. When I do, all I am met with is more darkness. Two tiny mouths with the same little sewing needle teeth stare back at me.

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